


Rex Block

by mrs_d



Category: due South
Genre: Crazy Canadian Weather, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heat does crazy things to a guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rex Block

**Author's Note:**

> For a few days in May, Inuvik was the hottest city in Canada (http://www.theweathernetwork.com/news/articles/rex-block-brings-a-taste-of-summer-to-northwest-territories/51352/). During this time, I was in the US, realizing the extent of my Canadianness (as evidenced in the fact that I was keeping up with news of freakishly rare Canadian weather patterns while I was away). I couldn't help but wonder how my favourite police husbands would handle a Northern heat wave, and this is the fluffy result of that wondering.

It takes six years of living in the Northwest Areas before Ray experiences what he’d call a real summer: sunny, hot, and humid, complete with cranky people and cold beer.

It lasts three days.

Inuvik is the hottest town in all of Canada for those three days, though, so he has to give the place some credit for going all out.

* * *

On the first day, Fraser’s all proud and know-it-all-y about it.

“It’s called a Rex Block, Ray, and it’s a highly unusual meteorological phenomenon in which...”

And maybe it’s the heat making him dopey, but Ray feels nostalgic for boat-wreck tales and Lou Skagnetti myths, stories about cold wind and snow, stories that don’t sound like science lessons so full of big words he feels like he can only catch the ‘the’s and the ‘and’s.

“I’ve never experienced one myself, though my grandmother used to tell me...”

Ray remembers how miserable Fraser was when Chicago got hit with that record-breaking July the year before they came North, so he’s very Canadian about letting Fraser talk. He nods and smiles like he knows what the hell’s going on, and he keeps nodding and smiling all day when everybody brings their cars into the garage because they’ve never needed the AC to work before and suddenly now they’re realizing it doesn’t.

That night he and Fraser take separate showers and sleep with no bedsheets.

* * *

By the second day, the novelty’s wearing off, and the heat’s making both of them a little less Canadian. Over breakfast, he asks Fraser a simple question about whether the Rock Block has anything to do with global warming, and he gets an argument in return.

“It’s _Rex_ Block, Ray, and it is a phenomenon that—”

“I know it’s a phena— phanoma— _thing_ , Fraser, I’m just wondering if it’s caused by global warming because Rick was saying—”

“The more accurate term is _climate change_ , Ray, and—”

“Right, the climate is changing and it’s pretty warm, so that’s global warming!”

Fraser pushes out a breath like an overheated engine throws out steam and goes into the bedroom to change into the blue thing that’s passing for his uniform right now. Until yesterday, Ray was pretty sure the t-shirt was the RCMP’s idea of a gag gift when Fraser got his transfer to Inuvik. Right now, though, thinking of Fraser in his full uniform gets Ray all hot and bothered, and not in a good way, either.

* * *

Ray sees the blue shirt coming up to the open door of the garage around noon. Fraser must be on his lunch break, and he’s nearly dripping with sweat.

“Hey,” Ray says cautiously.

“Hi, Ray. Have you got a minute?”

Ray glances over at Rick, who nods. “Sure, Frase.” He jerks his head in the direction of the office, where there’s a fan and a water cooler. Jerry’s coming out as they’re going in, and he teases Ray about getting deported, which was maybe a little funny five years ago. Ray forces a laugh, but he regrets it because Fraser’s forehead’s gone all wrinkly.

Ray fills a little paper cup with cold water and passes it to Fraser, then gets himself one, too. “What’s up?” he asks when Fraser doesn’t say anything.

Fraser drains his cup and refills it. “How much would it cost to fix the air conditioning unit in the truck?” he asks in his _I’m a Mountie, ask me how!_ voice.

Ray goggles at him. “You walked all the way over here to ask me that? You could have just called Leanne.”

Fraser’s face goes hard and flat. “I wanted to stretch my legs,” he replies with perfect pronunciation.

“At the hottest part of the day?”

This earns him a snippy little sigh.

“Never mind,” says Ray quickly. “You want it done today?”

Fraser asks, “Would you mind?” but all Ray can hear is Dirty Harry’s _Go ahead, make my day_.

“Sure. We’ll squeeze it in this afternoon." He hopes his negotiation voice isn’t too obvious ( _Anything you want, just put the gun down_ ), and then he remembers that Fraser _does_ have a gun. It looks big and clunky against his thin shirt.

“Or,” Ray continues, struck with sudden inspiration, “I can do it at home later. Just need to buy the parts.”

Fraser nods curtly. “Would that be more cost-efficient?”

Ray’s confused, but he nods, too. “Actually, yeah. Don’t have to pay labour.”

“Don’t you get a discount on parts, as well?”

Ray’s voice snaps out, surprising him. “What, are we broke all of the sudden?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what gives, Fraser?”

“It was just a question, Ray. Never mind.”

And then Ray’s watching Fraser’s sweaty blue back disappear down the street.

* * *

He dreads going home all afternoon. When he gets there, he sees Fraser’s patrol car parked out back, so he doesn’t even go inside. Instead he drives the truck straight into the barn and gets to work. When the job’s done, he can’t put it off any longer, so he sighs and heads up to the house.

And nearly collides with Fraser on the front porch. He’s carrying a plate of sandwiches and two glasses of iced tea on a tray.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Fraser mumbles. His head’s drooping down in full Mountie shame position, so Ray can’t help but forgive him, and after supper, he drives Fraser back into town for ice cream, which they eat in the truck with the AC cranked.

When Ray kisses him goodnight, though, Fraser pulls back, saying it’s too hot to be so close together.

* * *

Something wakes Ray up in the middle of the night. He rolls toward Fraser, but the other side of the bed is empty. He sits up, trying to figure out what’s setting off the alarm bells in his head.

Then he realizes he can still hear Fraser breathing, but he can’t see him. He crawls over, and there’s Fraser on top of a thin bedroll on the floor, arms folded over his chest like even though he’s asleep, he’s still pissed off.

Ray lies awake in the sticky heat for a while before he gets up and takes a long, cold shower. Then he climbs onto the other side of the bed and falls asleep face down on the Fraser-scented pillow, listening to Fraser breathe.

* * *

The third day, Friday, Fraser lets him sleep in a little and makes him iced coffee, but Ray ruins the moment by saying something about liking his coffee sweeter, and a few minutes later the front door slams.

Ray sighs. Heat does crazy things to a guy.

He listens to the weather report on the radio as he microwaves the coffee and stirs in sugar, remembering the big goofy grin on Fraser’s face when they landed in that duvet of snow, and he prays to all that is holy that there’s going to be a blizzard soon.

* * *

The garage closes a little early on Fridays, so Ray drives over to the detachment with a plan. It involves cold beer in the backyard, and he’s hoping he can convince Corporal Cranky-Pants to blow off the last few hours of the work week. (His back-up plan is just to blow Corporal Cranky’s pants off and hope for the best.)

Constable Short Stuff — the guy’s new and tiny, green as grass, and Ray can never remember his name — is changing the bottle in the water cooler when Ray walks in. Short Stuff swings his head around, nearly falls backwards on account of the full jug in his skinny arms, and Ray rushes behind the front desk to help him out, figuring a detachment-sized flood would really ruin Fraser’s day.

“Thanks, Ray,” pants Short Stuff when the bottle’s in the cooler, glugging like a fish. “You here to see the Corporal?”

“No, I need to report a crime.”

Short Stuff blinks once, twice, before Ray takes pity on him. “Yeah, I want to see Fraser. Is he here?”

“In his office.”

“Thanks.” Ray heads in that direction, but Short Stuff grabs his arm.

“I’d knock first if I were you,” he says under his breath. “Corporal Fraser’s... under the weather.”

Ray frowns. “He sick?”

“No! At least, not that I’m aware of. He’s just.... He seems on edge.”

Canadians and their niceness, thinks Ray. It never gets old. “Bitchy, huh?”

Short Stuff looks down at his feet. “A little,” he admits.

Ray pats him on the shoulder and chuckles. “Don’t take it personal, kid. Fraser just gets all moody when it’s hot.”

The constable mumbles something that sounds like, “Thank God he’s up North” as Ray heads to Fraser’s office door. He doesn’t knock.

Fraser’s channelling his inner Welsh when his head snaps up, but the glare softens a little when he sees who it is. “Ray, what are you doing here?”

Ray shuts the door behind him. “Saving you from drowning. About time I returned the favour, right?”

Fraser looks stumped for a second then shakes his head. “I’m very busy,” he says in his snippy voice.

“I know. Which is why you need to clock out.”

Fraser looks back down at his paperwork and sighs a little sigh. “Not now, Ray.”

“Oh, I think now’s a good time,” Ray answers, approaching the desk. “You got Short Stuff shaking in his boots so bad he nearly flooded the place with fresh mountain water.”

Fraser doesn’t look up, but he doesn’t look like he’s reading anymore, either. “I’ll be sure to apologize,” he says stiffly.

“You better. Your reputation’s at stake here.” Ray’s behind him now. He bends his head down, takes a breath of Fraser’s hair. “Call it a day,” he mumbles.

Fraser leans away, looking up into Ray’s face. “I have work to do.”

Ray lifts his hand from Fraser’s shoulder and runs a finger along his jaw. “Too hot to work.”

Finally, Fraser smiles a little. “Too hot to do anything.”

“Gotta disagree,” Ray says as he kisses Fraser, gently at first, running his fingers through his hair. Then he gives Fraser some tongue and moves his body closer.

Fraser caves at last, sliding his hands around Ray’s waist and slipping them down to cup Ray’s ass. Ray deepens the kiss, just for a few seconds, then he pulls back. Fraser chases him with his lips, but Ray denies him, stepping away. Fraser’s eyes are dark; Ray knows he’s got him.

“Come on, Corporal,” he says with a grin. “This is perfect barbecue weather, and the Rock Block owes me a beer or three. Let’s go home.”

* * *

Ray leans back against the tree trunk, thinking that possibly his favourite thing about Canada in the summer is cold Canadian beer.

Then he looks out over the yard, the little home they’ve built here, and he sees the bugs gathering in the air, smells the heat in the ground, and he thinks, no, it’s cold Canadian beer paired with a freak heat wave that turns the Northwest Areas into a sauna for a few days.

Then Fraser rests a warm hand on his thigh, and Ray knows his favourite thing about Canada in the summer is this — right here, right now: sitting with a formerly-cranky, recently-laid Mountie under a big tree during said freak heat wave, drinking said Canadian beer, and knowing that said crankiness just came from the Rex Block, that everything’s okay, everything’s greatness, that once it cools down, Fraser will apologize his Canadian head off, and Ray will laugh and tell him that since they’re not broke they should think about heading to Acapulco next winter.

Because if summer in Canada has taught him anything, it's that he can always handle Fraser, even if Fraser can't always handle the heat.


End file.
